


Hide Your Love Away

by RedOrchid



Series: 2014 headcanon ficlets [1]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Also Crack, And Likely Give You Diabetes, Birthday Headcanon, Conveniently Missing Boys, Deserves His Own Fic Really, Enough to Rot Your Teeth, Ficlet, Harry Turns 20, Holidays, Loved-up Lou, M/M, Making Fun of Twitter, Marriage Proposal, Meta, New Favourite Character, Plural, Talking About The Future, Tropical Destination, and fluff, so much meta
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-05
Updated: 2014-02-05
Packaged: 2018-01-11 07:46:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,313
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1170511
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RedOrchid/pseuds/RedOrchid
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What  "Just sitting around, being 20" really means.</p><p>(aka The One Where RedOrchid And Zarah5 Amused Themselves with Tropical Headcanon Surrounding Harry Being MIA on His Birthday, Which Then Somehow Turned into Red Ending Up as Z's Ficslave for A Week)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hide Your Love Away

**Author's Note:**

  * For [zarah5](https://archiveofourown.org/users/zarah5/gifts).



> Headcanon ficlet! Meta galore! All standard disclaimers still apply. Fiction, not real, blah, blah, etc.

Harry wakes up to a loud crash, immediately followed by some muffled swearing. He sits up in bed, and there’s another sound, something heavy being dragged across the floor, then some general clanking and shuffling. None of it sounds like Louis is in any immediate danger, though, so Harry slowly lies back down again, pulling the duvet up all the way to his chin and turning over onto his side so he can look out over the grounds outside.

The sun is up, still rather low in the sky, and the ground is wet from the rain that must have fallen during the night. Harry reaches for the remote that’s lying on his bedside table and presses a couple of buttons. The half-open curtains move to the side, and the panes of glass slide away as well, opening up the bedroom to the crisp morning air.

Harry breathes in deeply, closes his eyes and simply enjoys the sun on his face for a moment. Everything is still and silent except for the ocean and the various insects and birds that live on the resort. Apart from the occasional swimmer or surfer they spot out in the water every now and then, and the so-unobtrusive-they-practically-seem-invisible resort staff, they’re blissfully, _wonderfully_ alone.

A whole week of just the two of them and no interruptions, and they still have two days left. Harry hasn’t felt this happy and content in a good, long while.

He hears a soft knock on the front door filtering in from the main room, and then traces of a conversation between Louis and Rachel—their very own whatever-you-need-just-let-me-know resort employee for the stay. Louis was sceptical to the concept at first, until he realised that getting personal butler service meant they could keep completely to the cabin and its private little beach and garden for as long as they liked. They started out just ordering meals (delivered to their patio along with a small table, chairs, white table cloth, fresh flowers and candles), but by now, they’ve escalated to surfing equipment, spa treatments, new swim trunks for Harry, laundry service, a set of golf clubs and, well, certain necessary items from the local chemists that they’re going through at a quite impressive rate.

Honestly, Harry’s been with Louis for over three years now, and while they’re not matching the frequency of when they first moved in together and everything was a haze of more-now-need-you-please, they’re definitely coming close; it’s pretty ridiculous.

It’s not just about the sex, though. Harry loves the sex—he really, really does—but it’s just as much about simply being close to one another, sharing the same space, breathing each other in and just existing together, away from all the publicity circus that’s been their life for the past couple of years. The night before, they spent several hours curled up together on the huge hammock next to the pool, Harry reading a book while Louis dozed next to him, one leg slung casually across Harry’s hips.

The front door closes again, and there’s some more clanging and shuffling going on in the main room. It’s coming closer, though, definitely nearing the bedroom, so Harry closes his eyes and curls a hand around his pillow, figuring he should probably at least pretend to be asleep now that Louis has clearly gone through some trouble (and possibly pain) to make a nice surprise for him.

Louis creeps into the bedroom and puts something down on Harry’s bedside table before the bed dips with his weight and Harry feels a soft brush of lips against his own.

“Morning, love,” Louis murmurs, nipping a little at Harry’s lower lip. “Happy birthday.”

Harry smiles and shifts over onto his back, tilting his face up for another kiss, which Louis is more than happy to give him.

They trade slow kisses for a while, Louis leaning further and further down until he’s practically covering Harry like a second blanket. Not that Harry minds.

“Stop being so distracting,” Louis murmurs, only to lean right back in for another kiss. “Got you a special birthday brekkie. Come on.”

Harry smiles into the next kiss and takes a moment to wrap his arms tightly around Louis’s back in a hug before letting him go. “You got me breakfast?”

“That I did,” Louis replies. “Never say I don’t provide for you, babe. Now sit up and let me wow you with my brilliant room service ordering skills.”

Harry quickly scoots up the bed, helping Louis rearrange the pillows until he’s comfortably seated against the headboard. Louis carefully navigates a full tray onto Harry’s lap and then climbs into bed next to him, lifting the dome keeping Harry’s food warm with a flourish.

“Ta-daa.”

Harry feels a wide grin break out on his face. “You got me French toast?”

“With strawberries and whip,” Louis confirms. “And maple syrup, _and_ chocolate sauce.”

“And powdered sugar,” Harry says happily. He takes the fork lying next to his plate and cuts off a slice to taste. The powdered sugar sticks to his lips as he chews and swallows and, just as expected, it takes Louis less than ten seconds to lean in and remove the traces of it with his lips and tongue.

“You taste good,” Louis murmurs, deepening the kiss for a moment before pulling back again. “Want some tea as well?”

“Please,” Harry replies, taking another bite as Louis gets out of bed and returns a minute later with a serving cart holding a full tea tray, an ice bucket with an open bottle of champagne sticking out from beneath a towel and small wrapped box with a bow on top that Harry’s eyes immediately gravitate to.

“You got me a present?”

“No, that one’s for me,” Louis replies easily. “Don’t be all selfish, Hazza. Not everything’s about your precious self, you know.”

“You know, my mum always used to buy Gemma and I presents on each other’s birthdays when we were little,” Harry says. “So that the one not having a birthday didn’t feel left out. I kind of like that tradition, actually.”

“Yeah?” Louis asks, pouring a cuppa for each of them. “You think we should keep with that? You know, later?”

“Maybe,” Harry says, taking the cup and taking a slow sip. “I mostly just ended up playing with Gem’s gifts though, so I don’t know how much of a point there was. The best part was always unwrapping things, anyway, and we always got to help each other with that.”

“Maybe we’ll have twins, and then it won’t be an issue,” Louis says. “Dead practical that, and it does run in the family, so.”

“I thought we’d agreed to have at least three,” Harry says with a grin. “Bit tricky to match the third one’s birthday to that of the twins, even if we’re doing in vitro.”

“Eh, we can just _tell_ them that they all share the same birthday,” Louis replies. “Kids are dead thick when they’re little; they’ll believe anything. Lottie once convinced Fizz that if she put a worm in her mouth and held it there for an hour, it would turn into a butterfly.”

“Really?” Harry asks. “And did it work?”

“Well, she only managed ten minutes,” Louis says. “Tripped over something while she and Daisy were playing and accidentally swallowed it. She cried for _hours_ afterwards, it was heartbreaking.”

“Your sisters are going to make the best aunts,” Harry says with a smile. “God, I wish we could have our babies _now_. I _miss_ them, and we’ve not even met them yet.”

Louis takes the cup from his hands and puts a hand on the side of his face, tilting Harry’s face towards him. The kiss that follows is more intense than the ones they’ve shared so far this morning, a tinge of desperation letting him know that he isn’t alone in wanting these things too much.

“Soon,” Louis murmurs, kissing Harry’s right cheek, then his left, and then his right again, a bit further down towards the jawline. Three kisses for three kids. Harry turns his head and presents his left cheek for a fourth. For some reason, he’d really love an extra one today, maybe another baby when the first three are off to school. Getting to start all over again.

“Twenty-five,” Harry confirms, pressing mirroring kisses to Louis’s face. “At the latest.”

“Not a second longer,” Louis agrees. “Now open your present.”

“I thought it was yours.”

“I’m feeling generous. Now, go ahead before I change my mind about it.”

Harry grins. He pulls off the bow and wrapping paper agonisingly slowly, just to torment Louis (who has the _worst_ patience when it comes to watching other people open gifts out of anyone Harry’s met). The box inside is non-descript but rattles intriguingly. Harry opens the lid.

It… looks suspiciously like a jigsaw puzzle. Harry picks up one of the top pieces, letting his fingers trace along the edge.

“It’s twenty pieces,” Louis says. “One for each year. So you can fully feel how old you’ve become when you’re putting it together.”

Harry chuckles. Of course.

“I love it,” he replies, quickly moving his plate to the bedside table to create some space on the tray. “Thanks, Lou.”

“Saw it and thought of you,” Louis says easily. “Now, the more important question: how would you like your birthday champagne?”

“Blowjob-flavoured,” Harry replies automatically, laughing out loud when Louis mimics fainting from shock. “Barring that, straight up, I guess.”

He turns his attention to the puzzle as Louis slides out of bed again, finds the four corner pieces easily enough. The motive is some kind of heart pattern, aggressively rainbow-coloured with shockingly pink letters popping up on pieces every here and there. Harry’s too busy appreciating the overall effect to realise that the letters together spell out a message until he’s nearly done. His breath catches a little in his throat, and he feels his heart start beating faster as he lays out the last three pieces.

_Will you marry me?_

Right on cue, Louis holds up a glass of champagne in front of him. Harry ignores it in favour of carefully putting the breakfast tray out of harms way and tackling him back against the pillows, muffling Louis’s protests with a kiss as the champagne sloshes over the rim of the flutes and splashes down on both of them.

Harry doesn’t care in the slightest, just runs his hands along the sides of Louis’s face as they kiss, over and over again. Louis wraps his arms around Harry’s back in return, and some of the champagne still left in the glasses ends up running down the length of Harry’s spine.

“Oops,” Louis says, smiling widely.

Harry nudges Louis nose with his own. “Hi.”

“You are such a sap,” Louis complains. The way he’s positively beaming up at Harry is rather ruining the effect.

“So are you.”

“You haven’t answered my question.”

“Oh? What was it again?”

“Haz,” Louis murmurs, leaning in for another kiss, then one more. “Harry Edward Styles, love of my life and, as of today, person of very respectable age, will you marry me?”

Harry grins into the next kiss, takes his time to tease Louis’s lower lip lightly between his teeth. “‘Course I will.”

“Good,” Louis says, smiling just as much. “I like it when you say yes.”

“I like it too,” Harry replies. “This was a good proposal. Absolutely lovely.”

“Top five?” Louis asks hopefully, and Harry has to lean in and kiss him again, even though they’re both starting to get too giddy for it to really work.

“Top three, I think. The one in the shower’s hard to beat, and well, the first time’s always gonna top the list, won’t it?”

“God, I was so nervous then,” Louis says. “Felt like I was gonna be sick when I was standing there, waiting.”

“You couldn’t stop smiling when I walked up, though,” Harry says, remembering. “I think that’s my favourite part. That first look. Seeing you so completely gone for me.”

Louis snorts and tips the nearly empty flutes in his hands, pouring what little champagne is still left in them over Harry’s head.

* * *

“Are you breaking the no mobiles rule?” Louis asks sleepily from where his head is resting comfortably on Harry’s chest.

“Sorry, yeah,” Harry replies, typing out another line and then deleting it again. “Obligatory birthday tweet. Had to promise I’d do one to keep Stu and Jenny from demanding I hand over my new password.”

“Let’s see it then,” Louis says. “Just so you know, I’m expecting public recognition of giving the best birthday gifts ever.”

“How’s _Just got engaged to Louis, again_ ,” Harry asks teasingly. “Maybe add a few hearts, too, what do you think?”

“I’d love to see Twitter-me’s reaction,” Louis replies. “What’s Loved-up Lou up to, anyway? I’ve completely given up on checking that feed.”

“Still promoting CBB, I think,” Harry says, scrolling down. “No, today’s footie, it seems. And some general promo for the new vid.”

“He’s losing his touch,” Louis says. “No love texts in forever. He must be going mad from withdrawal.”

“Well, at least he got that one day skiing trip last week,” Harry replies. “Give it time. It’s almost V-day. I’m sure he’ll get to order a great big cake then. Maybe get cut into a picture or two.”

“Probably,” Louis says, pressing a kiss against Harry’s chest. “Fuck, let’s not talk about that; it’s depressing.”

“Couldn’t agree more,” Harry replies, rapidly losing interest in putting something witty, and preferably glaringly obvious, in his tweet without _technically_ breaking his contract when Louis smirks up at him and starts kissing his way down until he disappears from view under the duvet.

Harry types out _Just sitting around, being 20_ , quickly presses the send button and turns off his phone.


End file.
